A Roll of the Dice
by Millia
Summary: The woman melted in his arms while he was kissing her, and turned to ice the moment she stepped back. KoD, p.597


**A Roll of the Dice**

by **Millia**

**Summary: **"But she had kissed him just before they started out this evening. Only once, and said not to be greedy when he attempted a second. The woman melted in his arms while he was kissing her, and turned to ice the moment she stepped back." (_Knife of Dreams_, US hardback, p. 597)

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, especially not Tuon.

**A/N:** I wrote this in part because I felt guilty about never finishing "Ebony Doll," and partly because I don't believe in reading the particulars on articulatory phonetics. So, enjoy; and I apologize, as1. yet again I demonstrate my inability to titlestories, and 2.I've realized that I will never actually be a romantic writer—hopefully it doesn't sound too terrible at times, especially as I had no one to look over it before publishing.

* * *

"So you're still going to go through with your plan, Toy?" she said as she walked into the large tent, foregoing any greetings. The guards had eyed her askance, but it seemed—like all camps full of soldiers—rumors about her were spreading faster than a _raken_ could fly. It was beneath her to address the idle conversations of soldiers, but she had glared at them icily all the same.

Toy's second-in-command was there… Talmanes. He quickly stood up when she spoke and bowed deeply; Toy could learn some manners from him. Though not, she thought strangely, his appearance… she found that for some reason she liked Toy's hair, the way it curled around his ears and neck; so unlike the shaven heads of the Blood. She nearly ran a hand through her own tightly-curled hair, which had finally stopped itching, but refrained. She settled instead on crossing her arms and looking pointedly at Toy.

For his part, Toy simply glanced at her briefly and grunted concomitantly; she was pleased to note that his mouth tightened. He had been at the receiving end of many pestering women, though the _marath'damane_ hardly counted. She, of course, knew that it was too late to turn back, and she had no doubt that the plan would most likely succeed. She would have been surprised at this confidence in him just a few days ago; but now it hardly seemed debatable.

She would never tell him that, of course.

When she didn't leave, Toy finally straightened and glanced at Talmanes. The shorter man understood and, after casting Tuon a curious (and overly-knowing) look, strode out of the tent, calling to some men as he left, maps trailing under his arm.

Toy's clothes looked rumpled, as if he had slept in them, or not slept much at all. He also had an ink stain on his chin; Tuon had noticed he had a bad habit of chewing his pen when scrawling (she would not call it writing, given that she could barely read it). He was hardly the picture of a general; in fact, completely opposite to the Seanchan rigid code of appearance. The Commander General of the Ever Victorious Army would doubtless think him insignificant. Somehow, Tuon knew he was far more capable than clothes could ever make him out to be—she had thought of a lion, and it only became more apparent as time trickled by.

She would never tell him that, of course.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but he seemed to change his mind—he was finally learning something, at last. Instead, he opted for, "Where is Selucia and what the bloody hell do you want?"

Maybe he wasn't learning so much after all.

Tuon brushed off both questions—one would be simple to answer, the other nearly impossible. Selucia was, at the moment, both looking for omens about the battle and trying to keep an eye on the _marath'damane_, a task that was proving exceedingly difficult as they had much more leeway to move around this camp than around Luca's show. What's more, every man here showed them the same respect Tuon had first seen among the lords! It was inconceivable, whatever else Setalle Anan might say.

As for the other question, Tuon preferred to not even dwell upon it.

She had not forgotten, either, her intense curiosity about the maps Toy's army had regarding the Seanchan. She intended to focus now on these, but, as if reading her mind, Toy began to roll up the maps Talmanes had left behind. He called for a soldier to take the maps out once he was done, subjecting Tuon to another disgusting glance from the lout. She felt almost naked without Selucia there to box the man's ears.

Another feeling came unbidden, a feeling Tuon had been trying hard to ignore, though this one did not concern Toy or his soldiers. No, this feeling only increased as she watched the maps disappear with the soldier; this centered on the knowledge that loyal Seanchan were going to die tonight. And, given what she had witnessed as to Toy's (surprising) capabilities, a _lot_ were going to die.

"Well, Tuon?" Toy's voice shook her out of her glum thoughts—all the better for it. "I hope you didn't come here just to try to talk me into something else. It's too late for that, and Teslyn has already tried." She bristled at the name being mentioned related to her, and she could almost feel Toy roll his eyes. He didn't even _like _the _marath'damane_, and still he prevented them from being leashed; she was beginning to doubt she would ever understand this man or this backward culture.

He was looking down at her, wondering why she wasn't speaking. She had not come to his tent for a kiss, but with him standing far too close, and the knowledge that they were very much alone, she heard herself ask, "Would you like to kiss me again, Toy?"

Without waiting for an answer, and because he looked like a fish with his mouth opened slightly, she stood up, grabbed his head—her fingers tugging at that slightly-curly hair—and kissed him.

When he touched her waist, a curious warmth spread throughout her, like the ale she had tasted in the hell. It was fitting, she thought—a surprisingly coherent thought—to compare ale to Toy: they both took her unawares and seemed to affect her better judgment.

After he finished kissing her, it seemed she kept her eyes closed for far too long, but she was afraid of what she would see if she opened them. But she did so, slowly, only to come across that infuriating grin on Toy's face. Did the man have no respect at all?

"You have an ink stain on your chin, Toy." She stepped back slightly and reached for her handkerchief, quite pleased that her remark had wiped the grin off his face.

"Bloody hell, Tuon!" he said, brows furrowed at her, ignoring the proffered handkerchief. He tried to kiss her again, but moved back slightly when she raised a fist threateningly.

"Don't be greedy, Toy," she warned, tucking back the handkerchief and smoothing her hair; she was sure he still had a bruise from the last time he had tried to kiss her without her permission.

She stepped back further; she didn't like how he towered over her, but she realized uncomfortably that she also didn't like the absence of that ale-Toy-induced warmth.

To give form to her thoughts and to distract her from Toy's eyes looking straight at her, she said, "If you insist on following through with this plan, I will come with you. I told Selucia to have my horse ready."

He opened his mouth to protest, as she had known he would. She smoothly interrupted. "Someone needs to keep an eye on the _marath'damane_—they cannot be trusted while they are unleashed, whatever you believe. And doubtless you will need my assistance. When are we leaving?"

"You're not coming with me, Tuon. Teslyn is coming because I need her. There's no time for me to argue with you; we're leaving within the hour."

Toy's words seemed faster than usual, and Tuon could tell she was unnerving him. Was he concerned for her safety, or did he still not trust her?

"If there's no time for you to argue, then why try?" she replied.

Before he could reply, Talmanes was striding back inside. He spared no glance for Tuon this time, instead focusing on Toy. There were few words exchanged, and Tuon began to walk outside to look for Selucia. She saw Toy grimace slightly; and before she left, he muttered something that sounded like the Old Tongue—"It's time to roll the dice," is she was not mistaken.

A lot seemed to hinge on this night, she decided; the omens only reflected that more strongly with each one she saw. Time to roll the dice, indeed.


End file.
